


What A Lovely Way of Saying How Much You Love Me

by lupwned



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Babies, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Family, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Lesbian Character, Magic, Pregnancy, Queer Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘It’s just a book,’ she tried to assure herself, maneuvering herself onto the chair. She blinked down at the image once more.<br/>But it wasn’t really just a book. However romanticized the stories were, everything in there did happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Regina awoke to the feel of tiny fingers poking softly against her shoulder blade. “Mmm,” she groaned, nuzzling her face against her pillow.

“Mom?”

Henry. Her eyes opened wide and she quickly sat up on her palms. The bright light of the morning sun trickled through the large window across the room and into her eyes, causing the brunette to squint. A sharp pain crept up the back of her neck and jabbed at her skull; her head spun. She brought one hand up to her temple and rubbed small circles against the pounding muscle.

“It’s…uh…it’s almost 7. The bus will be here soon,” Henry said softly.

Regina turned her head slowly toward her son, opening her eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of him. Dressed in a pair of khakis, a white shirt and a blue vest with his hair brushed neatly to the side, he was the definition of handsome. She smiled weakly. “Go make yourself some breakfast and I’ll be down in a minute to pack your lunch, ok?” Regina’s voice was hoarse and sleep laden.

Henry nodded before walking out of the room and padding down the stairs.

In one swift motion – which she quickly regretted – Regina was upright, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. A wave of nausea washed over her, only worsened by the constant thud at the back of her skull. Her throat was dry but her mouth watered; her heart raced. Grabbing at the bedside table, she moved to a stand and rushed toward the bathroom.

She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and buried her face in the bowl, dry heaving several times before vomiting. Her body shook as she emptied the contents of her stomach repeatedly, coughing and sniffling as she did so. Exhausted, she rested her cheek on the cold porcelain and inhaled slowly.

When the wave of nausea passed, Regina grasped the toilet and slowly moved to a stand. She flushed the toilet and walked over to the sink. The sour taste of vomit sat in her mouth and she shuddered, reaching out to grab her toothbrush and toothpaste. She brushed her teeth and then her tongue. Satisfied that the bitter taste of bile was gone, Regina rinsed her mouth and then the sink. She’d have to clean the toilet too, but there wasn’t enough time before the bus would arrive. 

Despite having felt like she’d been hit by a truck, Regina forced a little smile for Henry’s sake before slowly making her way out of her bathroom. She grabbed a dark blue robe from her dresser and, after putting it on, switched the lights off and made her way to the kitchen. 

She found Henry sitting at the kitchen counter, munching on a bowl of cereal while engrossed in his book of fairytales. She rolled her eyes; even after all this time, with the curse broken and The White Knight having saved The Evil Queen (Regina scoffed at the thought; it wasn’t so much _saved_ as it was _bedded_ ), he still had a penchant for that storybook.

Regina walked over to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a jar of peanut butter and lunch pack of potato chips. She placed them on the island and turned to one of the lower cabinets to grab Henry’s lunchbox. The dull throb in her temples only intensified when she bent forward, blood rushing to her head. She could feel a rhythmic pounding behind her eyes sockets and in her teeth; this was like no headache she’d ever experienced before. She grabbed the lunchbox and very carefully returned to a stand. “I’m sorry about the late start. I’m not feeling very well today.” Regina walked over to the breadbox and grabbed a loaf, then grabbed a butter knife from the drawer below it.

Henry smiled. “It’s ok. Means everything’s going alright.”

Regina raised an eyebrow curiously. “What exactly does _that_ mean?” she asked, opening the jar of peanut butter. She collecting a small scoop of it on her finger and brought the sweet spread up to her lips before grabbing the knife. She wrinkled her nose. She didn’t even _like_ peanut butter.

“I like the name Isabel,” Henry continued, completely ignoring his mother’s question. “Or Zooey. What names have you and Emma come up with?”

Regina laughed as she began to fix her son a peanut butter sandwich. “Names for what? If it’s about a puppy again, Henry, the answer is no. I don’t care what Emma said, the answer is still no.” The brunette jabbed roughly into the jar of peanut butter with the knife. Emma always seemed to contradict her, made her out to be the bad parent, and it had only gotten worse since she’d moved in. She grumbled to herself as she spread the peanut butter over a piece of wheat bread.

“Names for the baby, duh,” Henry replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Regina dropped the knife onto the counter and spun on her heels, her eyes wide as saucers. “What did you say?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.

“The baby,” he smiled, poking at his book. “I’m excited. I hope it’s a girl.”

Regina let out a shaky breath. Another bout of nausea washed over her and she closed her eyes, willing herself not to vomit. “Henry, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but…”

“It’s in the book. Look!” He tapped excitedly at the page before him.

Regina brought her index and middle fingers up to her temples and rubbed in hard circles. After a moment, she opened her eyes and stepped next to her son at the kitchen counter. She glanced down at the book; the image that sat before her made her heart jump in her mouth.

Illustrated in black and white were The White Knight and The Evil Queen in a loving embrace. The Knight had her hands protectively around the Queen’s swollen belly, and they were both smiling warmly at one another.

Regina’s eyes magnetized to the baby bump protruding beneath the Queen’s lavish gown. She instinctively brought a hand to her own stomach and stared, her mouth slightly agape.

“See, I told you!” Henry exclaimed cheerfully. He turned his head toward his mother, who was staring forward, dumbfounded.

The sound of the bus horn blaring outside finally startled Regina out of her trance. She jumped, standing still while her son shuffled around the kitchen for his books, bookbag and lunchbox. “I- I didn’t finish making your lunch,” she stammered, walking over to her purse. She grabbed a ten dollar bill from her wallet and handed it to Henry. “Here, buy lunch at school. I’ll make it up to you with a good dinner tonight, ok?” She flashed him a weak smile.

“Ok, bye!” Henry ran for the door and scurried down the driveway toward the bus.

Regina stumbled over to the kitchen counter once more and gripped the edge of the table, her legs shaking and her head spinning. ‘ _It’s just a book_ ,’ she tried to assure herself, maneuvering herself onto the chair. She blinked down at the image once more.

But it wasn’t really just a book. However romanticized the stories were, everything in there _did_ happen.

She glanced over at the next page where several paragraphs of text lay. Squinting – both from her headache and the fact her glasses were in the den – she began to read the story of her – _supposed_ – unborn child:

_The White Knight and the Evil Queen were blessed with wonderful news: the Queen was with child. This infant was special, however, having been conceived through the powers of true love and magic. While the powers of evil fought to destroy the happy couple, the White Knight vowed to protect her family, Prince Henry and the unborn child growing in the Queen’s womb._

Regina rested her elbows on the countertop and buried her face in her hands. It made so much sense. The nausea, the headaches…she was a week late, but that wasn’t particularly abnormal for her; she simply chalked it up to stress. But now…

She let her fingers ghost over the illustration, tracing over the Queen’s large belly. They looked so happy, their eyes twinkling, large toothy grins spread across both of their faces.

She let her mind wander, trying to figure out when exactly this baby could have been conceived. Magical conception required…well, _magic_ , and Regina was sure she would have remembered it; and then the visual came to the forefront: the purple haze in both of their eyes, the little tendrils of red and gold crackling from their fingertips. She smiled. If Regina was indeed pregnant with Emma Swan’s baby, she recalled the night it had occurred vividly. _Quite_ vividly.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She stopped in front of the sink and closed her eyes. Reaching forward for the test, she let out a shaky breath through her nose in an attempt to steady her galloping heart. 
> 
> ‘Now or never,’ she thought to herself.
> 
> Peeking an eyelid open, she stared down at the test cradled in her palms, the results shining up at her in bright pink text.
> 
> PREGNANT.

**_3 weeks prior…_ **

“You could help me, ya know,” Emma huffed, twisting her body awkwardly through the front doorframe to accommodate the large box in her arms.

“I _could_ ,” Regina retorted, turning the page of the book in her hands. She craned her neck over the couch and smirked.

“I think you just like watching me lift things,” Emma teased, shifting the box in her arms to slightly flex her muscles.

 Regina straightened her back and turned her gaze to her book. “No idea what you mean, dear.”

Emma rolled her eyes and shuffled toward the sofa. She leaned over the back of the couch and placed a loud, sloppy kiss against the other woman’s neck.

Regina grimaced. “You stink like sweat,” she hissed, wiping the wet kiss away with the back of her hand. “Go shower.”

Emma let out a heavy sigh. “I _can’t_ , I have to finish bringing in the rest of these boxes before it gets dark. If you would just hel-“

“Uhhh, guys?” Henry’s muffled voice called from the front door. His little arms were wrapped awkwardly around a giant cardboard box; arms and legs visibly trembled as he tried to support the weight of it.

Regina snapped her head toward the direction of her son, gasping when she caught sight of him. “Emma Swan!” she scolded, rushing off the couch and across the room. She quickly scooped the box up from Henry’s grasp and tossed it haphazardly to the side. “He is twelve and you have him carrying a box twice his size?!” She bent to her son’s level and flashed him a warm smile. “Are you ok honey?” Regina ran her fingers gently through short brown hair before cupping Henry’s bright red face in her palms.

“Maaaaa,” he groaned, pulling away. “I’m fine. I just wanted to help.”

“See, at least _he_ has manners,” Emma chastised.

Regina flashed a death glare before turning her gaze lovingly back to her son. “That was very sweet of you, Henry. Why don’t you go clean up so you can help me with dinner?” Her eyes were warm and hopeful, grasping desperately onto each moment she could spend with her little boy.

“I don’t _want_ to help with dinner,” he huffed, “I want to help Emma with-“

Sensing an impending argument, Emma stepped forward and ruffled Henry’s hair. “You’ve been a big help. Go help your mom with dinner. You can help unpack after, ok?” She gave him a weak smile, silently begging a higher power that he wouldn’t argue and sour the rest of the night. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when he nodded and bounced up the stairs.

Regina straightened her back and stood. A pang of hurt throbbed in her chest; she’d come to the realization long ago that Henry would rather spend time with his birth mother than her, but that didn’t relieve the ache in her heart each time he rejected her. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and smoothed a few wrinkles out of her slacks before brushing past Emma to walk toward the kitchen. Deft fingers around her wrist halted her, spinning her slightly on her heels so the pair stood face to face. She huffed through her nose, annoyed. “I need to go make dinner.”

Emma cocked her head to the side. “He’s just growing up. It’s not you-“

“Of _course_ it’s me,” Regina growled. She clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists, wrenching her wrist from the younger woman’s grasp. “I’ve got to start dinner. Enjoy your shower.” Angrily, she turned and stomped across the living room, ignoring the sound of Emma’s exasperated sigh behind her.

Regina entered the kitchen in an angry swarm, opening the refrigerator to grab the supplies for dinner – a package of ground beef, an onion, and a small brick of cheddar cheese. Tucking the ingredients into the crook of her right arm, she slammed the door shut, the rattle of the appliance promptly echoing in the room.

Regina gnawed at the inside of her mouth. She was trying _really_ hard for to watch her temper and how she treated people; but kitchen appliances weren’t _people_ , she assured herself as she tossed dinner onto the table and roughly pulled the utensil drawer open. After snatching two knives, she spun around and popped her hip out slightly, shoving the drawer shut with a loud BANG, before walking over to the counter to set them down. With one final swoop around the kitchen, Regina grabbed the last batch of supplies – five potatoes, a bottle of olive oil, salt and pepper – before moving back to the counter to begin her prep work. She set all but the potatoes down onto the island and walked over to the sink to begin scrubbing them clean.

She let out a heavy sigh as she mindlessly rubbed her thumb back and forth over the rough skin of each potato, quickly losing herself in thought. Regardless of how kind she was, how steadfast she stuck to her plan of redemption, Henry continued to pull away. Somewhere deep inside, Regina had hoped that Emma’s moving in would help matters; that the novelty of his birth mother would fade. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Henry to love Emma; it was simply that she wanted that love to be _shared_ between both his mothers. She just wanted her little boy back, the one who’d kiss her cheek before school, the one who’d beg her to take him to the park and push him on the big boy swing, the one who clung to her desperately when he’d had a nightmare.

Her eyes blurred with tears. Blinking rapidly, she let a few fall before wiping at her cheek with her arm. The soft sound of pattering feet – they assuredly weren’t Emma’s, who practically galloped across the room – signaled her son’s entrance, and Regina turned and bowed her head, trying to hide her red, tear stained cheeks.

“Hey mom,” Henry said softly, walking slowly into the room and stopping just short of the counter. “Can I…uh…help?” He drummed his fingers nervously on the island and titled his head to the side.

Regina, refusing to look at her son, scrubbed roughly at some non-existent dirt on the potato in her hand. “It…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before speaking again. “It’s ok, Henry. You don’t have to help if you don’t want.” Her fingers dug harder into the spud.

“I…I want to help,” Henry assured, stepping forward to stand next to his mother at the sink. “What can I do?”

Regina’s heart leapt in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face her son. She had to bite her lower lip to stifle the huge smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Uh…you can grab me a baking sheet and a large pan. Do you know where they are?” She grabbed a paper towel from above the sink and began to gently dry the potatoes.

“Mhm,” Henry replied, bouncing over next to the stove to retrieve the cookware.

With the spuds cradled in the wet paper towel, Regina walked over to the counter and spread them out in front of her. She grabbed the sharper of the two knives and, with an experienced rocking of her wrist, began to slice the spuds into long, even strips. 

Henry walked over and, standing on his tiptoes, placed the baking sheet and frying pan side by side on the counter. He lifted his chin and blinked up at his mother for further instructions. “What now?”

“Can you cut the cheese into very small cubes?” Regina asked, gesturing toward the other knife with her left hand.

Nodding, Henry grabbed the cheese along with the blade and carefully sliced down the center of the plastic package.

“Please be careful with that knife,” Regina said incredulously, letting go of her own to reach toward her son’s. “If you don’t think you can do it, I can…”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Mooooom.”

“Alright, alright.” She lifted her arms up in surrender and went back to her prepping. Still, she couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of her eye, holding her breath as he began to cut. She reminded herself that he wasn’t a little boy anymore, that he had enough common sense to know how to hold a knife, but he would forever be rooted in her brain as her baby that wanted the ouchies kissed away and fixed with a Spiderman bandaid.

“What are we making?” Henry asked, slicing the last little bit of cheese before stacking the cubes into a neat pile at the corner of the cutting board.

“I figured in celebration of Emma’s move, we could have her favorite meal,” Regina explained.

Henry’s eyes grew wide and a toothy grin spread across her face. “You’re letting us have burgers and fries?”

Regina pursed her lips and grabbed the baking sheet. “Yes. It’s a special day.”

“Really? Awesome!” the boy exclaimed, shuffling excitedly.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Regina shook her head and placed the slices of potato evenly on the baking sheet. “Can you get me a large mixing bowl?”

Henry nodded and, a moment later, returned with the deep red bowl in hand.

Grabbing the bottle of olive oil, Regina broke open the seal and twisted open the cap. “Would you like to salt and pepper the fries?” she asked, gesturing over toward the seasonings with a tilt of her head. She poured the oil over top of the baking sheet and coated the spuds in a light shimmer, waiting for Henry to follow suit with the salt.

With all the enthusiasm of a twelve year old, Henry shook the container of salt over the soon to be fries, dusting them in little white crystals. Sensing no end in sight, Regina grabbed the salt out of her son’s hand. “We want fries, not salt sticks.”

Frowning, Henry grumbled to himself and picked up the pepper shaker, twisting it _just_ a few times over the baking sheet before setting it on the counter and peering up at his mother. “Better?”

“Much better, dear,” Regina complimented with a nod of her head. She grabbed the sheet and carefully walked over to the oven. Setting it to 450 degrees, she placed the fries on the center rack and returned to the counter where Henry was waiting. “Ready to make the burgers?”

“Mhm.” Henry’s face scrunched up in disgust as he watched his mother open the package of ground beef and put the worm-like meat into the mixing bowl. “Ew. That doesn’t look like burgers. That looks like brains.” He wrinkled his nose.

Regina laughed and nodded. “I suppose they do, Henry.”

“We had to look at a frog brain in class, once! It was super gross. We had to cut open his insides and head so we could analyze the-“

“As riveting as your adventure with amphibians sounds,” Regina interrupted, “I don’t think it is appropriate talk around food.” Glancing down, she noticed a flicker of hurt wash over her son’s face. She chewed at her lip. Finally, Henry had wanted to talk about his day with her – just like old times – and she’d dismissed him. She’d craved this kind of relaxed conversation for so long and, now that the chance had once again arrived, she’d blown it. “ _But_ ,” she added, “I would love to hear all about it after dinner.”

Henry’s face lit up. “Really?”

Regina smiled. “Of course.”  She turned back to the ground beef. “Ok, Henry, go ahead and put a little bit of cheese in.” She gestured toward the cutting board with a nod of her head. “We’re gonna mix the cheese and meat together so that it’s already part of the burger.”

Every so often, Henry sprinkled in a few cubes of cheese and watched with a mixture of intrigue and disgust as Regina’s deft fingers worked their magic through the ground beef.  Within minutes, she formed perfectly round patties and set them neatly in the center of the cutting board. “Let me wash my hands and we can start cooking.” She walked over to the sink and flicked the faucet on with an impressive smack of her elbow, trying to avoid smearing raw meat on the handles. “Now, normally you would put some oil or butter in a pan to cook, but ground beef has natural fats in it, so you can just begin as is.” With a few squirts of soap, she began to wash her hands. A small towel hung from the side of the sink and Regina grabbed it, patting her hands dry.  She turned toward the stove. “Just keep an eye on them and within a few minutes you-“ She stopped abruptly, her mouth slightly agape as she watched her son tending to three burgers, which had already begun to sizzle in the slowly heating pan.

Yet another reminder that her little boy simply wasn’t all that little anymore.

 “Mmm, what’re you two making? Smells good.”

Mother and son turned in unison to watch as Emma entered the kitchen.

“Burgers!” Henry exclaimed.

Emma raised a brow. “Oh? And your mother is ok with this?”

“It was her idea!” Henry continued, trying to flip the burgers fancily with a twist of his wrist. He failed miserably and splattered a bit of how grease onto himself. “Ouch,” he whispered.

Regina rushed over to the stove, pushing the pan aside and taking Henry’s arm gently in her hands. Her face scrunched up in concern and her cheeks flushed with worry. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

The boy rolled his eyes and laughed. “I’m fine, Ma.”

“Maybe I should finish-“

“I’ve _got_ it, Ma!” Henry groaned, twisting away from her hold.

Regina closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Turning, she grabbed a spatula from the utensil drawer and handed it to him. “Alright, but no more Iron Chef moves. Use this, please.”

Henry grumbled. “Yeah, ok.”

“What can I do to help?” Emma asked, stepping a little further into the kitchen and resting her hip against the island.

Regina, ignoring Emma’s question, stood behind Henry and peeked over him with a watchful gaze, making sure he was _safely_ tending their dinner. A mixture of pride and pain burned in her chest as she watched him flip a patty with ease. It landed back in the pan with a loud “sssszzzz”.

“Regina!” Emma called.

The brunette jumped. “What?”

Emma flicked her eyes over to their son and mouthed, “Let him be. He’s got it.”

Regina sighed and pulled away.

“What can I do to help?” Emma repeated.

“The table. You can help me set the table.” Regina retreated from the main area of the kitchen to the china cupboard, rising on her tiptoes in an attempt to grab three plates. Once in her grasp, she turned and handed them to Emma, who was waiting behind her dutifully with outstretched arms. The cups quickly followed suit.

They set the table and returned over to the stove. The scent of burgers and fries wafted through the kitchen; even Regina, who was hardly a fan of greasy food, had to admit dinner smelled divine.

“I think it’s ready, mom!” Henry turned and looked up at his mother. Regina nodded in approval.

“They are, dear.” She reached forward and switched off both the stovetop and oven cycle. Turning, she grabbed a pair of oven mitts and bent slightly at the waist.

The perfect view of her ass did not go unnoticed by a certain blonde.

“Watch out,” Regina warned as she opened the oven door. A burst of warmth tickled her skin as she pulled the fries out. They were cooked to perfection, crispy and golden.

“Aw, fries, my favorite!” Emma said excitedly, reaching out to grab one from the sheet.

Regina swatted her hand away. “Honestly, you’re worse than Henry…” As if on cue, the boy grabbed a fry from behind her and munched happily on it. Regina rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m now living with _two_ children, apparently.”

“You love us,” Emma grinned, grabbing the sheet of fries with a towel and placing it on a cooling rack in the center of the kitchen table.

“Yeah, you love us, mom,” Henry teased, bouncing excitedly behind his birth mother.

Regina tensed. _Love_. Sure, she loved Henry with all her heart, but…Emma? They’d never really said it to one another. They’d been together for quite some time, and the idea had certainly crossed her mind, but she’d never found the right time…

“Ma, come on, I’m hungry!” Henry groaned.

“Yeah, Ma, we’re hungry!” Emma imitated, sitting at the table and banging her fork playfully on the table.

Shaking the thoughts of love from her head, she grabbed the pan of burgers and walked over to serve dinner.

-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-S-Q-

“He adores you, ya know.” Emma smiled at Regina before grabbing another box and thrusting her arms elbow deep into it.

“Right,” Regina scoffed, her own hands busy pulling articles of clothing out from a box of Emma’s t-shirts and folding them neatly.

“He loved cooking with you.”

The brunette let out a breathy laugh. “He only helped because you _made_ him.”

“He helped because he _wanted_ to,” Emma corrected. “And besides, did you _not_ hear the excitement in his voice when he told you about dissection day in science class?”

Light pink colored Regina’s cheeks and a small trace of a smile curled up her lips. She said nothing, merely grabbing the pile of folded laundry and walking over to their -  now shared – dresser, but the expression on her face spoke volumes.

“He loves you, even if he has a funny way of showing it.” Emma turned and smirked. “Wonder where he gets _that_ from.”

Regina rolled her eyes before walking over to the bathroom.

Grinning with that patented Emma Swan ‘you know I’m right and I’m awesome’ look on her face, she grabbed a handful of panties from the box she’d been working on and made her way to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, she fixed herself a little space and began to put the underwear away.

A piece of red string caught Emma’s attention and she raised a brow curiously. Curling a finger around it, she tugged slightly. When the object finally came into view, she grinned mischievously. She grabbed it and shuffled over to the bathroom door. “Why have I never seen you wear this?” she asked before barging into the room.

Regina spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and, after rinsing, turned to see what exactly Emma was talking about. She grinned playfully in realization when her eyes landed on the red material. “Oh, I just haven’t found the right occasion,” she purred, resting her hip against the doorframe.

“Occasion found,” Emma declared. “On. Now.”

“What’s the occasion?” Regina asked playfully, stepping back over to the bed to fumble with a few pieces of Emma’s clothing still in the box. She couldn’t have cared less about the sweatpants in her hands, but sometimes – well, sometimes it was awfully fun to tease her Sheriff.

“The occasion-“ Emma’s breath was hot against Regina’s neck, “is that I’ve just moved in with a very hot woman who has a very sexy collection of lingerie that I have yet to see. Now,” she accented the word with an open mouthed kiss just below the brunette’s ear, “go put this on.”

“For someone who was so adamant about these boxes earlier,” Regina teased, gesturing toward the numerous boxes now spread across their bedroom, “you seem rather content with leaving them to-“ She gasped as Emma’s hands grasped her hips and turned her roughly. Their lips met in a hot, wet kiss, little whimpers creeping up both of their throats.

Pulling away from their embrace, Regina plucked the lingerie out of Emma’s hand and, with a particular sway of her hips, made her way back to the bathroom. “Be back in a moment dear,” she purred. She turned her head over her shoulder and winked. “No peeking.”

She closed the door behind her and quickly began to undress. In a haze of sexual frustration, Regina found that zippers and buttons seemed all but impossible in such a predicament. After several moments of struggle, she tore her slacks, blouse, and undergarments off, picking them up and placing them neatly in the laundry basket. Just because she was hurried didn’t mean she had to be messy.

Carefully, she stepped into the red and black piece of lingerie. Corset style down the back, black ribbons laced down her spine in perfect little x’s. She tugged at the built in push up bra and stole a glance at herself in the mirror. She’d have Emma wrapped around her finger in this little get up.

Regina peeked her head out from behind the bathroom door and smiled as she caught sight of Emma, half sprawled out on the bed in only a tank and a pair of boyshorts. She laughed to herself and stepped forward, making her entrance known with a little clearing of her throat. She rested her hand on her hip and waited for Emma’s response.

“Oh my god,” Emma growled, her mouth practically watering. She crawled to the edge of the bed on all fours and positioned herself so she was sitting on the end, her legs dangling over the side. “Come here.” She outstretched her arms and gestured toward herself with a flick of her wrists.

Regina grinned, slowly sauntering over with those dark fuck me eyes that drove Emma wild. Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, she stopped in front of Emma and tangled her fingers in messy blonde curls. A seductive smile curled at her lips as she spread her legs slightly to straddle Emma’s lap. “Do you like my outfit?” she whispered as she began to grind slowly against Emma’s thigh.

Emma moaned as the brunette’s already wet center pressed against her leg, coming to the realization that Regina was most definitely not wearing panties. She buried her face in the nape of Regina’s neck and licked slowly and purposefully up the expanse of tan skin. Vocal cords vibrated against her lips as a little whimper crept up the older woman’s throat. “Love it,” Emma murmured against the hollow of Regina’s throat before reaching out to snake her fingers beneath the hem of the lingerie. She cupped and squeezed the ample flesh of the brunette’s ass, forcing her to rock harder against her thigh.

Regina tugged roughly at the golden tresses in her hand, pulling their faces together in a bruising kiss. She whimpered and moaned against Emma’s lips as the warmth in her belly began to spread to her fingers and toes. Reaching behind herself, she grabbed one of Emma’s hands and snaked it down her front, a silent plea to touch and caress her.

Emma simply nodded, stealing a few more heated kisses while letting her fingertips dance down Regina’s neck and over her breastbone. Lightly, she pressed her hand inside the cup of the built in bra and began to rub the brunette’s nipple in small, teasing circles. In time, she dared to move lower, stroking softly between dark thighs. The strangled moan that left Regina’s lips when skilled fingers brushed against her clit sent shivers down Emma’s spine. Regina Mills on the verge of ecstasy was a mesmerizing sight.

With a swift rock of her wrist, Emma pushed two fingers into the wet heat grinding wildly against her thigh. Regina was _dripping_.

The brunette grabbed the younger woman’s face and crashed their lips together, their kiss taking on an intensity that almost knocked the wind right out of them. She ground down slowly against Emma’s fingers, gasping as the blonde curled them forward. Gently, Regina pressed their foreheads together and closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of Emma stroking her back with one hand while intimately making love to her with the other. Little squeaks bubbled up her throat as she opened her mouth. “D-do you…” Regina asked, her voice hitching when Emma pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within her.

“Do I what?” Emma gently moved her hand resting on the small of the brunette’s back up to tuck a few brown tresses behind Regina’s ear.

Regina rocked slower against Emma’s fingers, the intimate sensation of their faces close and their breath hot on each others’ skin driving her insane. “Love me?” she whispered, resting her hands on the younger woman’s shoulders. “Earlier tonight, y-you said I loved you. Do-do you…”

Their eyes met in a heated gaze, passionate and intense. “Of course I do,” Emma replied.

Regina picked up speed once more, pushing harder against Emma’s hand. She buried her face in the nape of the girl’s neck and, with a shuttering gasp, let go, falling over the edge face first into the fires of ecstasy. The intensity of her pleasure was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. A hot, tickling warmth coursed through her blood and set every nerve ending aflame. A shaking mess, Regina trembled in Emma’s arms and dug her nails into pale flesh as though she would fall into an abyss if she let go.

When Emma removed her fingers a few moments later, Regina caught sight of the smoky tendrils of gold and red rising from the blonde’s fingertips. Magic wasn’t an unusual result of their lovemaking but it hadn’t ever been from _Emma_ …She shrugged it off, placing blame on the incredibly intimacy of the moment, but when their eyes met, the brunette was greeted with shockingly violet irises and she knew _something_ had changed.

**_Present Day_ **

Regina held her breath, staring at the timer on the bedside table while counting down the seconds in her head. Her hands trembled; her stomach was in knots.

A loud “DING!” sounded from the device beside her and she lunged for the bathroom, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her.

She stopped in front of the sink and closed her eyes. Reaching forward for the test, she let out a shaky breath through her nose in an attempt to steady her galloping heart.

‘ _Now or never,_ ’ she thought to herself.

Peeking an eyelid open, she stared down at the test cradled in her palms, the results shining up at her in bright pink text.

PREGNANT.


End file.
